His Little Lady
by Imaginel
Summary: Erik found himself looking at Ayesha’s diamond collar, now fastened securely around the woman’s delicate neck.
1. Chapter 1

His eyes opened to the flat darkness of his unlit room. Did he feel a breeze skim over his hands, the only uncovered part of his skin? No, it was probably only the blood rushing through his cramped finger. He shifted in his sleeping place, moving his stiff limbs to a more comfortable position. He became dimly aware of a weight on his right leg.

"Oh, little Ayesha, did you get in through the door again?" he murmured softly into the dark. He stretched out a hand to pet the cat's silky fur. Instead his palm made contact with warm flesh. With a violent start he swung himself to the floor, and lit a candle with trembling hands. By its faint light, he glared at the stretched out form in his coffin.

"Who are you?" he snarled.

The creature sat up, cocking its head, and stared back at Erik expressionlessly.

Curbing his shock, he took a step backwards and drew a shaky breath. In his coffin was a woman—a nude one, no less—with her body folded so ridiculously, that at first he couldn't understand what it reminded him of.

"Who are you?" he asked again, calmer this time, for there was something about the woman's face and position that was familiar to him.

"What is wrong?" the woman asked, her voice surprisingly high.

"What is—What—What right do you have to ask anything of me? You're trespassing in my house!" Erik found that it was harder to threaten and yell at a calm naked woman in his bed than it was at others who have annoyed him.

The woman's head moved in a rapid, brisk movement as it bent over her left shoulder. "Trespassing?" she asked slowly. Her hands, Erik noted with some discomfort, were beginning to slowly claw at the lining of his coffin.

"Ye—Well, yes." He sputtered, concentrating on the vague familiarity of the woman's mannerisms, "How did you get in here?"

"You didn't close your door."

"I—of course I did! And where are you clothes? Dear God, have some decency, madam!"

The woman's eyes narrowed to dreamy slits. "I don't wear clothes," she said, and yawned widely, baring her teeth. As she did, she stretched out her neck, and Erik found himself looking at Ayesha's diamond collar, now fastened securely around the woman's delicate neck.

"What have you done with my cat, madam?" He roared. If the tart had laid even a finger on his precious little Ayesha…

"I am your cat, master."


	2. Chapter 2

Erik passed a hand over his face and sighed wearily. "I will not stand for any chicanery in my own household, _madam_," he finally announced, stressing the human demeanor of his visitor, "Though society may be partial to calling me a monster, I am indeed a gentleman and pride myself on that. Therefore, I will ask you again to _kindly _leave my home, and I will not be tempted to disclose the monster you should fear." Just as he finished talking, the woman pushed herself out of the coffin and in a rather clumsy manner padded over to Erik on all fours. He attempted to back away, but found himself caught in the corner of the room and was forced to allow her to sprawl on the ground, trapping his feet under her body.

Erik felt himself blush and quickly looked away, trying to ignore the fact that a woman's naked torso held him in place. "Madam, _please_, I will show you to the door and will provide you with some garments if you wish, but you simply must get off the ground," he wheezed in a tone that even he realized sounded pathetic. For a brief moment he had considered simply lifting her up, but a short glance down made him realize that some embarrassing contact with her skin would have to be made for him to successfully do that.

"You are raving, masterrr," the woman purred quietly, "Too much morrrphine, again, perhaps?" Lazily, she reached up a hand and clawed a vertical line down his leg. Her soft human fingers did little damage, but it was enough to make Erik leap out from the corner.

He opened his mouth again to make some sharp comment, but stopped as the woman folded herself into the shape of a sphinx and narrowed her eyes. Somehow, it was easy for his mind to visualize her as a cat and the call 'Ayesha' all but involuntarily leaped out of his mouth.

"Again you move away from me, master. What is wrong? Are you repulsed by me? I am hurt, master."

"No, I... I am not repulsed... merely shocked. Shocked, yes... I... Well, I... Are you my cat? Are you really my little Ayesha?"

"Of course. Have I not got the collar to prove it?" She stretched her neck, allowing him to better see the precious diamonds around her throat.

Erik knelt by her and touched the sparkling stones. "Well then, my little Ayesha, do you not feel any different than usual?"

"Not particularly."

"No change in appetite? Mm? Do you still prefer veal to fish?"

"I have never liked veal, master."

Ayesha resented veal.

"And rats?"

"I would spend my nights catching them if you were but to allow me."

That was true.

"And do you like cool or warm milk better?"

"Why, cool of course."

Ayesha always irritably spat out warm milk.

Astounded, Erik completely collapsed on the floor, crossing his legs. "Extraordinary. Completely extraordinary!"

Raising herself on all fours again, the woman approached him and calmly began settling down between Erik's legs.

"Master, I seem to have grown bigger," she finally announced fretfully to her mute and extremely embarrassed owner after several moments of unsuccessful attempts at curling up.

"Ah, yes. Yes, my dear, I'm afraid you have... grown, to put it delicately," he mumbled, sliding out from under her. As it seemed the woman was intent on somehow placing her body on Erik, the first thing to do would be to clothes her. Absentmindedly, he seized a silk robe he had abandoned on a nearby chair, and tossed it to the woman.

She brought her nose close to the fabric, then clawed at it with several short swipes of her hand.

Erik let out an exhausted sigh. Of course, she did not know how to put on or wear clothes. How would she? He picked up the robe and making a courteous barrier with it between Ayesha's smooth bare human skin and himself, began trying to show her how to slip it on her arms.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ayesha! Put it down!" Erik commanded, stabbing the slice of lemon in his tea irritably.

Slowly, the woman sitting across from him lowered her foot from its place well above the table. Her head twitched. "I'm itchy," she declared, squinting at him over the teapot.

"For the sixth time, use your fingers—the things on your hands—the thing you're leaning on right now—to scratch yoursel—NO, Ayesha, foot down! I doubt you're even itchy to begin with. In fact... no—no more scratching yourself. At least while you're at the table."

Ayesha's head turned away from him and her eyes fixed on some point in the far corner of the room. She was sitting astride her chair, leaning on her two hands which were in front of her on the seat. It was the most natural position for her that would also agree with Erik's not at all waning embarrassment and demand for some civilized behavior from his once-cat.

He sighed. "I liked you better when you were small," he grumbled into his teacup.

"What did you say, master?" the high voice asked.

"Nothing, nothing. I said drink your cream."

He had poured some chilled cream into a wide cup and begged Ayesha to at least try to drink out of it before she demanded a saucer.

Because demanding, as Erik quickly learned, was what the human Ayesha did best. She demanded to be let out of her confining clothes; she demanded that she be allowed to sleep in his coffin as usual (an idea which mortified Erik); she demanded that he open the door when he barricaded himself from her when returning to sleep; she scratched feebly at the door with her dull human nails and demanded that she be fed in her high voice throughout the rest of the night. After several hours of twitching rest, a defeated Erik shuffled out to make tea for himself and some dairy dish for his pet.

The steady discomfort he felt at seeing Ayesha's human body unabashedly trying to pull itself out of his silk robe, he passed off as annoyance or exasperation with Ayesha. Though uncommon, annoyance was not an unfamiliar feeling for Ayesha. Erik had on several occasions locked her out of his rooms or dragged her off his lap with reproaching comment; such behavior aroused no calm inquiries from her, inquiries which severely distressed him. He simply could not imagine describing to the half closed eyes and the half naked form that his cat's female body provoked a suppressed curiosity in him which he thoroughly wanted to murder.

So he continued stabbing the poor lemon slice in his cup and pretending it was his wretched curiosity. If it really killed the cat, they were all better off without it.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

It would be really nice if you guys who read this could possibly review, please. :) Just a nice comment or a mistake you notice somewhere would be most appreciated. I mean, I'm still going to continue writing even if you don't review, I like doing this, but I dunno. It's just good encouragement.

P.S. Ayesha carries out a lot of cat stereotypes that might not even be true. But I'm not aiming for anything realistic. I mean she changed into a human, man!

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When he returned in the evening, he expected Ayesha to be sitting in her awkward human manner, waiting for him. Instead he found her sleeping on the bare floor, her thin limbs thrown into a pile at her side. The sight was almost comical, but the smile growing on Erik's face was checked as he saw that her robe had untied. Disgusted with himself for even noticing, he briskly tossed his gloves and cloak on the couch and stalked past Ayesha to his room.

_You will not let yourself walk in that direction. It ends in nothing but a cliff!_

_And yet.... what was really so bad in a cliff?_

_Oh stop it, Erik! It's your cat you're talking about, not... not some vulnerable, oblivious ballet girl._

_All the better then, Erik, she won't be able to run screaming to the authorities. _

_Oh, are you planning on making Ayesha scream now?_

The quarreling voices in his head ceased suddenly. He collapsed on the floor and squeezed his eyes shut.

"She's my damn cat. Even if she lacks fur and a compact size, she is my cat. My. Cat."

"With whom are you speaking, master?"

"Ah... No one."

"I'm hungry."

"No you're not."

"Thirsty."

"Drink your milk."

"Too warm."

With a sigh, he dragged open the door. "Why is it, dearest Ayesha, that you were not this fond of arguing before?"

"It's simple, master. Before, you just didn't respond."

Erik laughed humorlessly. "You eat more now, have you noticed?"

"I'm always more hungry," she replied and her face appeared between the door and its frame. "Why are you on the floor, master? Are you sick?" Still unused to walking on two legs, she crawled over and lay down on her side next to him, stretching out her arms. "Rub my stomach,"she demanded and closed her eyes.

He glanced over. Illuminated by the light falling through the tiny crack in the door, Ayesha's body lay sprawled lazily, outlined by the red silk, as splendid as the best of women and as proud as the best of cats.

"I...I'd uh... I'd really rather not," he finally mumbled.

"Why? Is my fur dirty? You forbade me to lick myself, master, so I--"

"No, no. It's not that. I just—well, your fur... that is to say, your skin—you... Ayesha, see, you... you need a bath." He startled himself with the last words. What an idiotic suggestion on his part!

A loud hiss directed into the side of his neck made him shiver. "NO WATER!" Ayesha screeched.

"Oh, You're not going to drown, you know, but you sure will be cleaner. It really is disgusting how you roll under the tables and chairs all day. God knows what sort of filth you collect." Erik did his best to keep his voice steady and stern, while his mind was curling itself around the inviting idea of giving Ayesha a bath.

And yet, who not? Did he not only a few minutes ago remind himself repeatedly that she was his cat? And it would be ridiculous to have any trepidations whatsoever at the idea of giving ones animal a bath.

A thorough, hot, long bath....

No! This would defile all of his previous attempts at making a human out of Ayesha.

And yet, what could be more human than taking a bath?

Before his conflicted mind could further fan the flames of indecision, he stood up resolutely. "Think on the bright side, dear Ayesha: while you're taking a bath, you get to shed all those pesky clothes you hate."

But truly, he wasn't sure which one of them was more consoled by the thought.

***

Next chapter: Ayesha's bath ;D oooooh.


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